


Papa, Don't Preach

by illbefinealone



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Brikey, Help?, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Kid Fic, M/M, What Was I Thinking?, brendon and mikey are dads and their kid prefers patrick, i included peterick oh how original, i wrote this to get away from my family what did you expect, isn't that always the way, this ship the is titanic and i'm on it, today is my birthday so i'm giving you a fanfic instead of cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illbefinealone/pseuds/illbefinealone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Urie-Ways are a family of three, two of whom are winging parenting and the third family member isn’t feeling well today, has some questions and really, really, REALLY loves her Uncle Pat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papa, Don't Preach

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my started fanfic pile for months now; I was too lazy to finish it. Since it’s my birthday today (I’m 19, I’m a grown up now), I figured I give you something since I can’t Fed-Ex cake. That just costs too much.
> 
> I finished it this weekend, cause you know, Easter and avoiding your relatives and stuff. Yah!
> 
> This is how this one started: My mom dared me not to speak for fifteen minutes and I had nothing better to do than to imagine these two as dads. My mind was occupied with this for a while. I apologize for everyone that’s getting involved with this ship because of my obsession.
> 
> If you encounter some spelling or grammar mistakes please let me know. And feel free to comment and leave kudos and whatnot.
> 
> Also, happy birthday mom, sorry I stole your birthday. And that I didn’t get you anything. I’m broke, but you know this. And you’re not gonna read this, you’re not into gay fanfiction or any fanfiction, and you have no idea who these people I’m writing about are, except for some details you might have caught from my constant chatter,… so this part doesn’t really matter.

  


Mikey is pacing around their upstairs hallway, stopping every time he reaches the bathroom, expecting some noise from the inside. He decides to stop and stand right in front of it, in case he misses anything. He sees Brendon walking up the stairs with two mugs in his hands, offering a soothing smile as their eyes meet.  
  
Their six year old daughter Ella, whose name Brendon had picked on some website online and he did not let Mikey have an opinion afterwards, wasn’t feeling okay today. Thankfully it was a Friday and her dads had an easier time canceling whatever meeting they had. Everyone wants to go home early on Fridays, what’s up with that?  
  
“Any sign?” Brendon asks, the worried expression on his face making Mikey wish he had a magic wand and could fix everything with a wave.  
  
“She’s not throwing up anymore, so that’s good,” Mikey responds as he reaches out for the mug with hot coffee he’s passing him.  
  
“I don’t understand why she wouldn’t let us inside.”  
  
“She’s six now, Bren, a grown up,” Mikey jokes, offering Brendon the same words Ella used few minutes ago.  
  
“Remember when she needed us for everything. I do, like it was yesterday,” Brendon says, seconding it with a sigh.  
  
“It was yesterday. She stubbed her toe and had you carry her around.”  
  
“Shit.”  
  
“No swearing, please,” Mikey remind him. They have agreed not to swear out loud until Ella is in her teens and to achieve that they made up more PG ways to get away with it.  
  
“Sorry. I forget,” he defends himself.  
  
“It’s been six years, you… behind,” Mikey hisses silently, clenching his fist and playfully striking Brendon’s arm, causing laughter to escape Brendon’s throat.  
  
“You’re no better.”  
  
“My poop is more age appropriate,” Mikey insists, smiling at the men on his opposite.  
  
“You wish,” Brendon continues laughing.  
  
But both of their expressions return to serious and concerned as they hear the doorknob turn. They look down at a slightly pale version of their almost-six-year-old bundle of joy that is standing on the doorstep, looking at them with a mixture of curiosity and affection.  
  
“You okay princess?” Mikey whispers, kneeling down to her eye level.  
  
“No,” the little girl shakes her head “My tummy hurts and I pooped a lot.”  
  
“Come on, let’s solve that problem,” Brendon offers his free hand and he sips on his coffee to minimize the headache cause by the sleep-deprivation.  
  
They’ve been having sex like crazy recently. Not that Brendon is complaining, he isn’t, because he loves it. It’s just that he hasn’t been getting enough sleep which it gives him headaches in the morning and he’s a cranky bitch without a Tylenol. A really cranky, easily irritated bitch: his own words, not Mikey’s.  
  
“I’ll go get dressed,” Mikey notifies his husband as he heads back to their bedroom, clutching his hands around the coffee cup as if there is no tomorrow.  
  
Well, without it, there isn’t. He knows that it’s a long day ahead of him and then a long weekend, he needs the caffeine.  
  
Brendon nods in agreement as he approaches the stairs with his daughter tightly gripping his hand.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
“But I don’t want toast and jelly, I want fries and mayo!” Ella tells Brendon, watching him from the other side of the kitchen island with her big green eyes and innocently blinking, her long eyelashes making her more adorable than she already is.  
  
Brendon taught her well, maybe even too well.  
  
“No. Mayo and fries will make you sicker, you might barf again,” he says, staring back with nothing but sympathy in his eyes, “And nobody takes fries with mayo, it’s just weird.”  
  
“Papa does,” Ella insists, trying to prove a point.  
  
“Your papa is also weird, but I love him too much and forgive him for the mayo,” he says before a snort comes from the hallway.  
  
“Do you want to talk about the whole sleeping thing then?” Mikey strikes back, walking into the kitchen with the empty coffee mug in his hand.  
  
“What sleeping thing?” his little girl asks and Brendon looks at his husband in shock, wondering what lie is going to be told now.  
  
Here’s the sleeping thing: Brendon has recently figured out that he cannot sleep as well with pajamas on as he can sleep with nothing on except for socks. Sometimes his boxers stay, but most of the time they don’t.  
  
It was incredibly uncomfortable at first, one of them completely naked and the other not only dressed but also wearing layers because the naked one hogs the covers. But Mikey got used to it, he would get used to anything for Brendon. And yes, morning boners are no longer a surprise, matter of fact they’re everyday life, but what did Brendon expect.  
  
“You’re too young to know,” Mikey tells his daughter, stroking her blonde hair before he takes a seat right next to her.  
  
“Am I old enough to know about number six now?” she adds another question.  
  
“No, you’re still way too young,” he says and curses after Pete in his mind because if Pete didn’t say it, if Pete didn’t constantly use swear words instead of plain old adjectives, they wouldn’t be in this mess.  
  
“Please tell me,” she says again, wrapping her arms around Mikey’s right one and squeezing until she can’t make the hug any tighter.  
  
“Just do the alphabet honey,” Brendon replies, not even thinking about what he’s saying, all of his attention focused on making the toast right. He can screw that up easily.  
  
“Bren!” Mikey exclaims.  
  
Ella releases Mikey’s arm, in a rush to count the letters, to finally find out what number six is.  
  
Mikey stares at Brendon in disbelief. They’ve been trying to avoid answering the number six question for two months now. Brendon just shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter at all.  
  
“F!” Ella shouts with a wide smile spread across her lips, “What does F stand for?”  
  
“That’s what you’re too young to know,” Mikey says, warning Brendon not to let another peep slide through with a stare.  
  
“It stands for fudge,” Brendon lies, going against his husband.  
  
“I love fudge,” the little girl says, “number six, number six, number six, number six” she sing-songs.  
  
“Ella honey, go pick out a movie to watch with breakfast,” Mikey says and carefully watches as his daughter gets up and heads to the living room, “I can’t believe you did that,” he says to Brendon.  
  
“Are you going to angry number six me tonight?” Brendon asks with a smile spread on his lips.  
  
“You will not be able to handle all that fudge,” Mikey replies, willingly making it a challenge.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Their family doctor gives them a visit, she examines the little one before she determines it’s the stomach flu and it’s nothing to worry about. Some antibiotics and it’ll all be fine.  
  
But here’s the problem.  
  
Ella isn’t a fan of taking medicine, no kid is. It doesn’t matter how many times her dads promise her that it will make her feel better. It can give her magical powers, but if it’s in a form of a pill she is not taking it.  
  
No way.  
  
There is a loophole though and Brendon and Mikey found it a long time ago. It annoys them, but it’s still there.  
  
“Thanks for coming guys!” Mikey says taking a step back to let their guests in.  
  
Patrick Stump is Ella’s favorite person. She loves her dads, she loves her uncles too, she loves her Uncle Gee a lot – sure, but she loves Uncle Pat the most.  
  
Pete and Patrick have been together since Brendon and Mikey’s wedding. The two couples are involved in each other’s lives way too much, that is why Ella is attached to Patrick like they have been super-glued.  
  
Patrick buys her stuff, takes her out for walks or for ice cream, volunteers himself and Pete to babysit whenever Brendon and Mikey need a timeout and he plays with her for hours, he has never said no.  
  
Basically, there are four men raising this little girl, one of whom is constantly grumpy and sarcastic.  
  
“No problem,” Pete says to Mikey as he passes by him, “I just like to remind you that you promised lunch.”  
  
“Pete!” Patrick warns his boyfriend, rolling his eyes. Lunch is incredibly unimportant now.  
  
“We’re ordering in, don’t worry,” Mikey says to Pete as he’s pushing the door closed.  
  
“What’s wrong with the munchkin?” Patrick asks as soon as Mikey closes the door, meeting his eyes, just as worried.  
  
“Stomach flu, she just doesn’t want to take any medicine,” Mikey explains, leading the guys towards the living room where Ella is watching Frozen, for God knows which time.  
  
“What about the trap your mom told Brendon about?” Pete asks. Those two obviously talk about stupid stuff when they hang out.  
  
“We’re not crushing anything, we’re not secretly feeding medicine to my daughter, I don’t care that my mom did it to me,” Mikey snaps at Pete, the same way he snapped at Brendon when he suggested that just an hour ago.  
  
“Go and see your goddaughter,” Patrick lightly pushes Pete into the living room.  
  
“I’m trying to help,” Pete defends himself and he starts walking away, “I’m failing I know, but at least I’m trying.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Mikey shrugs it off.  
  
“Have you tried bribery?” Patrick asks, staring at Mikey as he waits for an answer.  
  
“Bribery,” Mikey repeats questionably.  
  
“Sour gummy worms,” Patrick suggests.  
  
“I’m gonna save that for next time.”  
  
“Uncle Peter!” they hear Ella’s voice come from the living room, “Is Uncle Pat here?  I like him best.”  
  
“I know you like him best, there’s no need for you to tell me every single time!” they hear Pete say, his voice calm and cheery. But Patrick knows that he’s not going to hear the end of it. And he can already hear the conversation in his head, as it always goes.  
  
_“Patrick, that girl acts as if she’s your daughter and Brendon and Mikey are just constantly babysitting. Does this have something to do with your sperm donation?”_  
  
_“Pete, shut it.”_  
  
_“If there is, I would battle them for custody.”_  
  
_“I know you would. I just never donated sperm; there are no grounds on which you can base your suspicions.”_  
  
_“What do you mean you never donated? It’s easy money ‘Trick.”_  
  
_“Have you?”_  
  
_“Maybe we should ask for a DNA test.”_  
  
_“Pete, stop.”_  
  
_“Or were you a surrogate mother? How did you hide it for nine months?”_  
  
_“Pete.”_  
  
_“Love you pattycakes.”_  
  
_“Or so I hear.”_  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
“Daddy won’t give me fries,” Ella complains to Patrick.  
  
They’re sitting around the dining room table, enjoying the take out while Ella loudly finishes her toast. No heavy foods for her today.  
  
“Fries will only make you feel sicker. But once you get better, I will buy you all the fries you want,” Patrick another promise everyone knows he’ll keep.  
  
“Yay,” the little girl exclaims.  
  
“Number six,” Pete mutters, expressing his emotions.  
  
“I want some number six too,” Ella adds, initiating stares from her godparents.  
  
It takes Brendon a few seconds before he realizes he needs to clarify it.  
  
“Fudge,” Brendon explains it all with that one single word. He then gets up and heads to the fridge for a re-fill on the juice they’re all drinking. It’s easier to drink that than to be sipping on beer and in a constant battle with a six year old that wants some too.  
  
“We’ll get you some fudge too,” Pete tells the little girl.  
  
“You guys gonna get a baby soon and stop hogging mine?” Mikey asks his friends. Patrick’s face lights up and Pete rolls his eyes.  
  
“Sharing is caring,” Pete says to Mikey, continuing to eat his food as if nothing important came up.  
  
“Papa, are WE getting a baby?” Ella asks; she’s looking at Mikey with the big green eyes she knows how to use to her advantage even at such a young age.  
  
The same look which she gave to Brendon, trying to persuade him into fries for breakfast. But these puppy eyes never work with Brendon: he is the master of them and is immune at the same time.  
  
“Why would you ask that?” Brendon intervenes before he takes a sip of the juice.  
  
“Few nights ago I heard you daddy, you made these weird noises and I talked to Melissa about it,” Ella says and both Mikey and Brendon start staring at her in pure agony, Patrick in surprise and Pete is simply satisfied with the situation. Melissa is her friend from school, the allegedly smartest girl in the class, “She said that she heard her mom once, making the same noises you were making, and that days later they told her they were getting a baby,” Ella continues explaining in great detail and Brendon chokes on his juice as she ends the sentence. Mikey glimpses at Brendon, still in shock, before looking at his daughter who’s about to finish her story, “A year later the baby came,” she adds her final touch. Brendon lets out a choking sound again and Mikey keeps staring at the little girl in front of him. She’s so young, so innocent and she has so many things to learn.  
  
“Head down and over the sink, Bren,” Mikey advices and Brendon obeys, “Darling, we’ll talk about it later, okay? Go play now.”  
  
“Okay,” Ella agrees and runs away, leaving Brendon and Mikey to come up with a solution.  
  
Mikey gets off his chair and covers the space between him and his husband in few short steps. He places his hand on Brendon’s back and starts rubbing circles, soothing him as Brendon coughs out the liquid from his nose and trachea.  
  
“Well, we learned two things,” Mikey starts the conversation.  
  
“Yes we did,” Pete chirps, earning a light punch in the arm from his boyfriend.  
  
“What? That our daughter’s friends can’t tell time? That we scarred her for life?” Brendon asks silently, fighting with the sour sting at the back of his throat.  
  
“No,” Mikey retorts, “Our daughter might want a brother or a sister and we need a house with thicker walls.”  
  
“She will never forget that Mikes. Weird noises,” Brendon protests, still keeping his head tilted down in the sink, still gathering himself.  
  
“She’s six, she’ll forget about it by next week,” Pete interrupts.  
  
“Let’s hope you’re right,” Patrick says before anyone else can.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
The only way they can go about this is with Patrick there, of course. Otherwise it’s not going to go well.  
  
Brendon and Mikey are sitting on the couch, staring at their daughter, not knowing how to start the conversation. Patrick is sitting on the coffee table in front of them, while Ella is comfy on his knees. She’s just waiting for her dads to say something, anything.  
  
Mikey and Brendon don’t really know how to go about this. All they know is that they can’t get another kid right now, they can’t promise a whole lot because they don’t know what’s next in life.  
  
Sometimes leaving Ella alone can be a reason why they can’t do something, join someone on tour or go the extra mile. They have a little girl to take care of, a little girl that is still too little to be able to go on tour with a bunch of always drunk or always drinking men.  
  
“Ella honey, we can’t get a baby now,” Brendon is the first one to speak, “We’re not very good at being parents; we’re trying our best not to screw you up,” he adds.  
  
“Don’t say that,” Mikey protests, speaking on behalf of everyone and Brendon rolls his eyes at him.  
  
“But it’s true,” Brendon insists.  
  
“Scarring,” Patrick says the only word needed, a soft warning.  
  
“Not as scarring as the other thing,” Pete chips in, reminding them all of ‘the noises’.  
  
“Ella sweetie, don’t use the word ‘screw’ until you grow up as old as us,” Mikey advices his little girl and she obeys right away.  
  
“Okay papa,” she says; her voice calm and her eyes still big and shiny, filled with anticipation.  
  
“How about we get a dog instead of a baby?” Brendon offers an idea.  
  
“Dogs need to be walked twice a day Bren,” Mikey reminds his husband, knowing that he’s going to be stuck with the walking anyway. Ella and Brendon will pet the dog; Mikey will take care of everything else.  
  
“Do cats need to be walked?”  
  
“No,” Patrick answers and shakes his head in disbelief. How can that even be a question, let alone be asked? Come on Brendon!  
  
“And those self-cleaning litter boxes, are those a myth?” Brendon asks, looking around at the skepticism coming from everyone, even his little one.  
  
“Those are real,” Pete tells him like the pet connoisseur he is.  
  
“How about we get a cat then?” Brendon proposes an idea.  
  
Cats aren’t that hard to take care of, food and a litter box is all they basically need, and affection of course, but Mikey’s sure that his munchkin will smother the cat with love.  
  
“Can we get a fluffy one?” Ella looks at her dads, satisfaction sparkling in her eyes.  
  
“We can get a fluffy one,” Mikey confirms, words he never once in his life thought he would be saying.  
  
“I can’t believe you just said ‘fluffy’,” Pete mocks Mikey, his voice stern as if he’s angry before he lets a smile break out.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey peeps, thanks for reading. Find me on tumblr: [illbefinealone](http://illbefinealone.tumblr.com/)


End file.
